


Hell to the Yeah, Boy

by thunderswept



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: "Heroes", Deadpool - Freeform, Explicit Language, Hellboy - Freeform, Marvel characters crossover with Dark Horse Comics Inc. characters (technically), abe sapien - Freeform, at least not romantically, but they're all exo members duh, i dont think we're gonna be shipping my dudes, mayhaps there is humor, probably slice of life in a world of heroes, spiderman - Freeform, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderswept/pseuds/thunderswept
Summary: Some weirdos run into each other and, holy guacamole, it's gonna be a wild ride--- perhaps anticlimactic but for the sake of theatrics, it will be very wild.(movie_set_explosions.mp3)





	Hell to the Yeah, Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Self Prompt: Uhh
> 
> Pairing: Continual Uhh
> 
> Rating: T for Teen Spirit
> 
> Warnings: Deadpool swears, kids. Watch out for language!
> 
> Author’s note: 
> 
> Well, I present to you all a single chapter because *points to self* I'm prone to failure and it's okay! But no, really, this will just end up being chaptered and whatever, probably a slice of life hero fic (updates may take up to a year, be warned - I just got into the chaptered fic bizz like a week ago so don't trust me too much). Mods, /salutes/, I love you all. My best dudes. Thanks for putting up with me... thanks @anyone for putting up with me tbh akljdlskj anyways please enjoy!

Does every comic hero story have to begin during a miserable downpour at night with just the sounds of rain on dumpster lids, the cars speeding by, and an ominous and empty alleyway?

 

Of course it does!

 

Okay, maybe it doesn’t have to _begin_ with one, but that’s usually where the exciting stuff happens, right? Right. Sorry if it is rather cliche, I don’t make the rules. Sometimes I do, but for now, let’s say I can’t.

 

It’s too bad a decent kid like Minseok can’t avoid whatever those dank, backstreet shortcuts have in store for him. But, hey, he’ll make some new friends. Stay tuned, they’re going to be some interesting people--- I promise you with my whole leg that you’ll love them! It’ll grow back, anyway. Also, I have pretty nice thighs, so you can thank me if these new friends don’t impress. You guys should wanna hope I lose this bet! And remember it, would you? Because I sure as hell won’t.

 

Either way, you better like these new friends of Minseok’s, because one of them is going to be me! And do you know what’ll happen if you say I’m not cool?

 

I take _your_ leg. And it better be a goddamn nice leg.

 

☠

 

It’s hot, and Minseok doesn’t sweat from the heat--- he doesn’t sweat at all--- but it’s as humid as a rotting corpse in a plastic container that’s been sitting in the trunk of a black car out in the sun and the air is musty as Hell. He’s condensating, that’s what. Or, at least, things are condensating on him. The air, that is. Stuff in the air. He doesn’t know.

 

He wouldn’t mind it much if only his concealer wasn’t dripping off his face like low-grade ice cream that was making a mess all over a child’s hand in 98-degree weather. It’s really inconvenient when you’re a literal demon trying to hide your identity so you can blend in, albeit rather pitifully, struggling to have as normal a life as a demon can get among this crazy place called New York.

 

Maybe a “normal” life for a human isn’t quite “normal” for a demon of God knows _what_ origin, but Minseok’s doing his best to survive here. He’s not immortal or some bull like that.

 

Even if Minseok doesn’t sweat, since heat doesn’t bother him one bit--- he’s fireproof, it doesn’t mean his face isn’t feeling insanely itchy around the nose at the moment. He’d go as far as to say he feels like he’s dying. If he makes a move to scratch his face, the _very few_ people around him might be freaked out more than they already are at the site of this random man walking down the street with long, loose track pants and an oversized hoodie. The concealer would get under his nails and his real skin would be exposed, making him look like he just picked off his flesh and revealed the bloody muscle underneath. Even he thinks that’s creepy as a demon and one would assume he’s seen some dark shit. Don’t get him wrong, he has.

 

In reality, Minseok’s just a red guy. Like, his whole body is entirely red, except for his hair. His hair’s black. Thank the Big Guy for some variety in his appearance, right? For sure. Actually, Minseok has no idea what higher being orchestrated his existence.

 

Hurrying along the block with his filled, reusable grocery bag, as per his roommate’s orders, the man clad in clothes unfit for the summer heat walks up the steps of a derelict townhouse that looks like it’s being crushed between two others. Sometimes it gives his roommate anxiety over actually being squashed by their neighbor’s humble abodes.

 

Minseok lets out a heavy sigh of relief once he’s within the safety of his run-down house. He tosses his bag to the side and starts shrugging off all his unnecessary clothes right in the foyer, and then tugs on the dirty ribbon he uses to tie his tail to his leg. And, yes, he’s still wearing underwear. The guy’s got enough decency not to have his junk swinging around. Finally free, the demon runs to the kitchen sink so he can wash the disgustingly thick makeup off his hands and face.

 

Another thing; he hates having to ask his sweet old lady neighbor to order him expensive concealers that don’t smudge and get on things, and then they still smudge and get on things. Like, what’s with that? People are always giving him weird looks when he leaves beige handprints on the check-out counters. The stuff at the corner pharmacies don’t cut it either, unfortunately. Anyways, on the subject of his sweet old lady neighbor, Minseok would not hesitate to die for her. Miss Kim saves his ass more times than he can count and never questions his weird behavior. She’s, like, basically his precious grandma. A bit clueless, but _his_ clueless godsent gift from the heavens who has yet to figure out her neighbor isn’t human. A pure angel.

 

One of the best grandma things little Miss Kim does is hoard candy just for Minseok. Baby Ruth bars. Fuck, he gets _really_ excited for that stuff. There are always three or four sitting around when he comes to visit since Miss Kim always tells him to come see her or she’ll be lonely. Over his dead body will Miss Kim ever feel lonely. Also, she knows just how much he loves that chocolate-covered, nougat crack meant for kids.

 

Alright, old lady appreciation time is over.

 

Minseok goes to the stairwell that leads up and cocks his head, listening for any sounds. Hearing nothing, he very thunderously goes, “Hey, Blue, you up?!” He doesn’t have to wait long.

 

Some sloshing, a splash, and something similar to a wet splat comes from up the stairs--- maybe a sharp cuss, if Minseok’s not mistaken. It’s funny because the fish man never swears and Minseok absolutely loves it when he does. There’s nothing like breaking another’s character to make someone feel powerful.

 

“I was… resting,” comes a groan that Minseok can barely hear, but he hears it nonetheless.

 

The red demon shakes his head in disbelief, although the situation is totally believable. “Yeah!” he barks as he starts marching up the steps. “In the tub. Again. You better figure out a way to pay those water bills, Sehun.”

 

The bathroom door is open and the drip of the leaking tap is ridiculously loud from where Minseok stands. He makes it in time to watch his roommate slip back into the filled tub, a relieved groan escaping his fish lips--- or lack thereof.

 

“I am an amphibious creature, Minseok,” Sehun reminds as he continues to slide his body further into what Minseok guesses are gallons of ice cold water worth a fifty or more on that month’s bill. He doesn’t actually know how to guess the cost. “I need this. Do you want me to die?” He submerges his head under the water, not a ripple made. A few bubbles disturb the surface.

 

“Well,” Minseok considers for a moment, aiming his attention to the ceiling as he sarcastically ponders the question. “If I didn’t have you to take care of, my water bill would be, oh, maybe twenty a month. Hm. I guess it would benefit me if you die.”

 

Sehun’s head pops out from the water as he regards the red demon with wide, unblinking black eyes. “You know,” he starts, “I already knew what you were going to say, but hearing it still hurts.” He shakes his head with a disappointed sigh. “You should consider getting the tap fixed. I’m sure that is the main source of your water problem. Do you know how much that costs you every day? And I’m surprised you even go out, reeking like a sewer.”

 

“I don’t sweat.”

 

“Even so.”

 

“Hey, you’re adding to the water cost. So don’t pin the blame on the poor sink. Have some respect.” Just to be a little over the top, the demon walks up to the faucet and begins fondly stroking the pipe.

 

For a fish man whose expressions are limited to none but one, Sehun does a good job of looking insulted. “You know what? Screw your deficient sink.”

 

Chuckling, Minseok sweetly says, “Oh, my dear Sehun, the only fish man I know. Everytime you say some fancy word and I heard ‘fish’, my demon heart laughs at thee.” He lets out a loud ‘ _ha!’_ . “De _fic_ ient.”

 

Sehun lifts a webbed hand out of the water and makes a point to look at it carefully. “If I could properly flip you off, I gladly would.” He attempts doing so, although it’s awkward and only makes Minseok’s eyes nearly bulge from trying not to openly die of laughter. “I hope you return back to the voids of Hell or wherever you came from and somehow rot, please and thank you,” Sehun sniffs bitterly and slinks entirely back into the water, a lot messier than before.

 

Minseok snickers and waits a minute before going back downstairs for a beer.

 

☠

 

Nobody ever looks up. It’s great.

 

Minseok takes a drag of his cigarette and watches the city below. He’s swinging his legs idly, perched on top of the roof of some nondescript building in a somewhat busier part of the city, a little ways from his own block.

 

He’d hang out in Times Square if the buildings weren’t all so tall, hard to get around, covered in flashy advertisements, and several miles away. If he could go, maybe then he wouldn’t be so bored out of his mind. There isn’t a lot to do when you can’t make friends and you can’t actually… go anywhere. If it wasn’t obvious, he kind of resents his life--- just a little.

 

But hey, it’s not all that terrible. He’s got beer, he’s got sticks, some company at home, and he can’t say he needs much else.

 

Minseok takes his last drag and stubs out the cigarette on his arm. It doesn’t burn him since he’s a demon and everything.

 

Grunting as he gets up, he adjusts his pants--- it’s the only thing he’s wearing--- and thinks about how he’s gonna go about getting home. Night’s out and it looks like it’s going to be extra cloudy. The idea of rain doesn’t bother him, but he’s not a fan. It makes him look like a wet dog with sawed horns. Don’t even get him started with how his hair looks once it dries; it gets really curly. Like, ugly poodle curls.

 

He’s trying to recall where he left his hoodie because there aren’t a lot of other ways to inconspicuously leave your own home and start crossing streets between blocks while looking like a walking, bright red traffic light. He ditched it at some point and at the moment, he seems to be quite fucked. Minseok’s tail twitches agitatedly in the air, free from the confines of his pants thanks to a little hole in the back. To top it all off, it starts to drizzle.

 

“Aw, what the Hell.”

 

Jumping between rooftops is always fun, but in the rain, there are moments where one might just die. It gets a little slippery, that’s all. Also, it’s getting in Minseok’s eyes, but he still sees better in the night than humans. Praise be the Dark Lord for these demon perks.

 

After some thought, he thanks whatever caused the drizzle, which eventually becomes a decent downpour. With the rain, there might be less people out. It’s also very dark. Therefore, he may be able to sprint across some streets without much fuss. Minseok hurries home, quick as he can.

 

☠

 

“Park, you did not just lure me out here to eat burritos with you.”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Byun? These are premium chimichangas, and according to me, you came out on your own volition.” One hand clad in red spandex extends a plastic container of steaming Mexican food to a different hand also clad in red spandex.

 

“They’re plain, fried burritos. And you said someone was being mugged. Come to think of it, you could’ve handled it yourself.”

 

“But you told me no more killing! I can’t help myself. I love choppin’ up baddies and putting holes in their heads.” He makes stupid karate chops at the air with cheap and sad sound effects. “So quick. So easy.”

 

“Oh, right. That.” Byun pulls his mask above his nose and opens the container, the smell of meat and spices wafting up. “Hey, you know what? Thanks for the free meal.”

 

Parks looks up from his food, cheeks stuffed, with his own mask pushed up. “Free?” he parrots in question. “Ah, I forgot to mention. That’ll be five bucks.” He stretches out his palm and wiggles and fingers expectantly. Even though his mouth is closed, his chewing is loud and gross.

 

Byun gives as blank a stare as he can through his mask and purses his lips. “On second thought, it’s going to rain soon. I’ll catch you later.” He sets down the food and pulls his mask back down.

 

“Oi!” Park jumps to pick up the food and follow the other. “I was just kidding! Come on, I bought this for you--- don’t ditch me now!”

 

Byun heaves out a sigh and pauses from jumping off the building. “Okay, but it’s really going to rain. I’m not staying for that.”

 

“That’s fine,” Park says evenly. He starts packing up all the food. “Then, let’s eat at my place? Or yours. Whichever suits you best.” He pulls down his own mask and chuckles to himself. “Suit you best. Hah. We’re both wearing suits.”

 

“Yeah, you’re so funny,” Byun comments dully. “Alright, let’s go to yours. I’d prefer you didn’t treat mine like home. And it’s closer.”

 

Park holds his hand to his chest, seeming emotionally wounded--- in a joking way. “Ouch, that hurt. Anyway, can I ride you?”

 

“What--- can you _what_?” Byun leans further over the edge like he’s trying to get away.

 

“What?” Park asks, confused. Then he gets it. “Oh, you dirty boy. I meant while you’re swinging around and stuff on your webs and doin’ the climby thing.” He imitates the climbing by scratching at the air and looks stupid while he does it. “But, I mean, I like butt stuff. That’s fine too.”

 

Byun groans in some kind of despair before relenting. “Get on.”

 

“Score!”

 

They actually happen to pass by a mugging and clean up the situation. It was mostly Byun yelling at Park not to pull out his guns and maim the mugger. The guy is the poster boy for trigger happy lunatics.

 

“Oh my gosh, thank you Spidey!” The victim squeals in gratefulness and strange delight. She fluffs her hair and acts like she’s in front of some celebrity, trying to impress them. “You saved my life! You and--- u-uh, who’s that?” She points at the one trying to jam his gun into a pink hello kitty backpack.

 

“Me? You don’t know who I am?” Park scoffs as he slings his bag on. “People these days are such uncultured swine. I am the mighty Deadpool! The bad-assiest of all the heroes.” He receives a clueless stare. “You’re kidding. Doesn’t ring any bells?”

 

The girl stutters. “U-uh, Deadpool, you say? That’s a, um, interesting name…” She brings her hand to her mouth and says apologetically, “Sorry I’ve never heard of you…”

 

“Well, then! You should be. Very very _very_ sorry.”

 

Byun hangs his head in shame. “God, why is he like this?” he mumbles to himself.

 

To the side, the culprit wakes up from his unconscious state and starts to struggle in the tangle of webs he’s been spun into. “The fuck? What is this shit? Get it off me!”

 

Park whips out his gun from his bag in a split second, aims, and cocks it. “Dude. Who said you could speak?”

 

“Shit, Deadpool I-I’m sorry, man! Please don’t shoot!”

 

There’s a moment of silence as the eyes on Park’s mask widen. “Oh, hey, he knows my name. I kinda wanna let him go.” Park lowers the gun, pleasantly surprised. He turns to Byun. “Can we?” he asks.

 

“No,” Byun says immediately.

 

“Who _is_ this guy?” the girl asks, shocked by the request.

 

Park whips the gun at her, and everyone freezes. He pauses for a bit, looks at his hand, and then scratches his head with the nuzzle. “Look, lady, I just introduced myself a second ago. What are you? The human reincarnation of Dory from Finding Nemo? I mean, the similarities are just uncanny. You’ve got the nasally voice too.” The girl scoffs grossly in offense.

 

Byun drags his hand down his face in exasperation and sighs like he’s given up. “Alright, let’s go. I can’t believe we’ve stayed this long. Christ.”

 

“Didn’t your mommy teach you not to say God’s name in vain?”

 

“Just get on my back or I _swear_ …”

 

“Alright alright, you sinner.”

 

They made sure the police were on their way before taking off. It’s only after a couple of blocks that Park decides to open his godforsaken mouth again and Byun contemplates faking an accident just to shake the parasite off. In concept, it’s a bit harsh, but in retrospect, he’d be thanking himself. Besides, the other would heal right up.

 

“Whoa there, spider boy! Take a look at that guy down there!” Park pulls his arm a little too tight around Byun’s neck, effectively making him halt and partially gag.

 

“Choking, I can’t breathe,” Byun struggles to say, slapping the arm around his neck.

 

“Oh, whoops.” Park hops off the other’s back. “The guy’s getting away! He looked real freaky, all red like he’s covered in blood. C’mon let’s catch him!”

 

“Why are you yelling?”

 

 _“Can’t hear you! It’s raining!”_ Park screams in a particularly annoying manner while jogging backward.

 

Maybe he’ll trip and fall off the roof. If he would just keep moving…

 

The rain descended upon the city at full force by that time, making things difficult to see and offering absolute certainty that anyone out for too long would go home looking like prunes. True to his words, a red man is making his way through the connected alleyways, looking like a manic cosplayer for a half-naked thing with a lizard tail.

 

They trail the red guy until he randomly stops and starts taking off his pants.

 

“Whoa whoa whoa, he’s stripping in public! _That’s_ got to violate some law, right?”

 

“I guess,” Byun replies offhandedly. “What’s he doing with the tail?”

 

Park squints down and lo and behold, the red guy is tucking the appendage by his leg and then attempts to slip the pants back on. “Weird. I don’t know, but consider this: that tail is actually a part of him.”

 

Byun tilts this head, truly considering. “Then, we should have a talk with this person.”

 

“Sounds like fun.”

 

☠

 

Minseok grins to himself once he sees signs that he’s getting close to being home free. His place is just around the corner. Before he left, he decided to forgo his shoes. Right now, he’s really looking forward to not sidestepping every few meters so he can avoid cutting his feet on broken glass. Just as he’s about to make the last stretch, his foot catches on something.

 

“What?” He glances down and tries not to scream at the sight of his foot covered in a white, sticky and stringy substance. “Aw, fucking gross.” It looks like jizz. Super glue jizz.

 

“ _Tsk-tsk_ , dearie me, what a dirty mouth you have.”

 

Minseok twists around to find two people in weird costumes, clinging to each other and hanging off a long string of something that looks similar to the stuff on his foot. Maybe he accidentally stepped on a used hypodermic needle laced with some acid. It’s not likely--- heck, he’s been watching where he steps, but maybe he didn’t catch it? Seriously, he thinks he might be tripping.

 

“So, tell us, are you cosplaying some kind of mutant freak or are you actually a mutant freak?”

 

“You really didn’t have to put it so rudely,” Byun commented.

 

“Being straightforward is the best method, dear.”

 

Minseok brings a hand up to silence them and then points to himself. “You’re asking me if I’m cosplaying, while you guys are the ones in spandex?” He raises his eyebrows and smirks derogatorily. Don’t get him wrong; if he had to choose fight or flight, he’d be out of there.

 

“Oh look, the little red bitch is being rude to _us_ now. Byun, you gonna take that?”

 

“Frankly, yes. I’m not mad about it. And don’t call me that around people. We’ve _talked_ about this.”

 

“Whoops. I’m so sorry, xXspidey-boyXx.”

 

“Shut _up_. Get off my back, I’m tired of you hanging on me.”

 

Park grumbles as he gets off, “And here I thought we were good friends.”

 

“Alright, listen here,” Minseok speaks up, snapping his fingers. “This stuff on my foot? Whatever it is? Get it off. Second, I’d like to go home. We’re all freaks of nature here, so I’m sure you won’t go yelling about me. I’m tired and I’m wet and you two can both fuck off and fuck each other. I don’t know. But let’s make it quick.”

 

“Lil’ red freak thinks he can boss us around now…” Park mutters while Byun tries to fruitlessly brush the rain off his suit, rain that was still falling heavily. “Maybe we should just turn him in.”

 

The demon bristled. “Turn me in? To who? You got some kind of organization?” Minseok pries aggressively, trying to crowd into the guy’s space but belatedly remembers his trapped foot. “Well?” he demands. He’ll take them if he has to. There’s no way the government’s reigning in him nor Sehun. They haven’t survived off the radar all their life for these fuckers to do what Minseok is sure they do best--- fuck everything up.

 

“And what if we did?” Park taunts while stepping closer. His height is massive and Minseok decides he really, really hates this one. “You scared we’re gonna tell on you?”

 

“Hey, come on.” Byun tries to stop the other, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What is this? Good cop, bad cop? We’re here to talk. Don’t act like this, man.”

 

“What?!” Park shouts. “Act like what? What am I acting like?” he asks less aggressively.

 

“A stupid fucking _bitch_ ,” Minseok seethes.

 

Park stills and regards the red-skinned demon with masked eyes but a startlingly readable disposition that screams _danger_ and _you’re so about to get a fresh fucking can of high-quality whoop ass fed by yours goddamn truly_. “You what? Mate? Say that again.”

 

Minseok is stressed, to say the least, and he’s starting to breathe a little hard, not quite sure if he looks angry or on the verge of a breakdown. He feels the latter a lot more and, shit, that’s when he realizes maybe he’s a little bit drunk.

 

Minseok is entirely unpredictable when inebriated. There is no ‘Are you a sad drunk? Talkative? Sleepy?’ He could be any and all of them with more on the side, and yeah, he might’ve guzzled a whole six pack of beer back at the rooftop perch. Now the alcohol’s kicking in.

 

“Whoa,” Byun mumbles as he watches the red guy kind of sway, “is he alright?”

 

Minseok can feel his lip start to wobble and god, this is embarrassing, but he’s totally about to cry.

 

“Oh, he’s totally gonna bawl,” Park says.

 

“I just wanna go home,” the demon snivels, a little pathetic, but he’s drunk and tired. Shit’s never fun.

 

Park throws his hands up with a frustrated noise and faces Byun. “Well! Now I feel bad. Great, just great.”

 

Byun only casually lifts his shoulders up with a vague hum. “You never feel bad for anyone else. How you feel isn’t my problem, anyways.”

 

“But do you see this guy?! He’s mewling like a sad kitten.” The man who calls himself Deadpool goes to clutch his chest and says, “You know how I feel about sad kittens.” He’d kill a man for a kitten. Mostly bad men, but it depends on the situation.

 

“I like kittens,” Minseok mutters with his bottom lip out and a frown pulling at his mouth. He slumps onto the wet, dirt alleyway floor as best as he can with his foot still glued stuck. “I miss Mittens,” he whines childishly. That’s Miss Kim’s tomboy.

 

Park gasps and turns to Byun again. _“Mittens,”_ he whisper-yells with a sort of shocked tone that actually translated into one of ‘that’s so fucking cute I could die’. It’s funny--- even with a mask, the unimpressed look is easy to read on that Spiderman mask.

 

“So what now?” Byun asks. “We take him home?”

 

“Well, I don’t see why not! The chimichangas get getting soggy. If they get any soggier, someone’s gonna pay. I say we borrow his couch, eat, and _then_ we talk. Say,” Park starts while turning back to the drunk demon, “where do you live?”

 

In hindsight, Minseok shouldn’t have pointed out his home so easily, but a Minseok under the influence doesn’t think smart. He doesn’t really think at all. It makes for an even easier situation to give his door away when it’s literally right across the street, so Minseok points to it and, like a child, demands, “Hurry _uuup_ ,” his hands stretched in front of him, asking to be carried.

 

“Noes goes!” Park declares before quickly touching his nose.

 

Byun groans out a, “Whatever.”

 

So they make their way across the street, Byun with a drunk guy on his back and Park skipping alongside, with the rain still going strong and no concerns over running into random pedestrians with their getups and one strange-looking acquaintance. It’s when they reach the door that the two spandex boys pause and draw a blank.

 

“Do we break in?” Park asks.

 

Byun simply side-eyes him like he’s stupid.

 

They don’t get a chance to mull over their options as Minseok blearily squints at the door and mumbles, “Open sesame…” His tail shows up with the key dangling from the tip and he attempts to unlock the door with the appendage, only for it to clatter onto the ground.

 

They all sigh tiredly in unison. Above them on the second floor, a drape rustles minutely.

 

It takes some fumbling, but they make it into the house where there are conveniently two couches; one for Minseok to sprawl on top of and the other for the spandex duo to settle on with grateful groans. Silence ensues--- and then dies.

 

“Do you get the feeling that this was pointless and… what are we even doing here? You know?” Park deliberates aloud, one hand waving uselessly in the air while the other reaches into his hello kitty pack for fuel for more sober-yet-stoned thoughts.

 

“Gee, I can only guess,” Byun says sarcastically as he accepts his soggy fried burrito.

 

“Can I have a nap?” Minseok asks, barely able to keep his eyes open. He’s about to get his answer before his attention averts elsewhere and he interrupts again to say, “Oh, hey Sehun, my dude, what is _up_?”

 

A sudden and very violent clang sounds, followed by Park’s shout of pain--- though mostly surprise--- as his ass falls on the floor and he looks up to find a blue, hybrid fish-man, iron skillet in hand.

 

“What the actual _fuck_ , mother _fucker_!” He looks at his supposed buddy, who sits calmly on his side of the couch and simply watches the newcomer curiously. “Hey dickhead, you couldn’t give me a warning? Your spidey-sense fucked up or what?”

 

“Oopsies, he’s mad,” Byun chuckles.

 

“Whoa, that looked like it hurt,” Minseok mumbles, only a little apologetic.

 

“Who are you all and what are you doing here?” Sehun questions, holding out his skillet defensively. “I want answers! What did you do to Minseok?”

 

On the side, Byun snaps his fingers with an _‘aha’_. “His name’s Minseok and you’re Sehun. Nice.”

 

“Hold the fucking phone, why didn’t you hit _him_?” Park shouts indignantly as he gestures wildly towards Byun.

 

“You’re the dangerous one. Isn’t it obvious?” Sehun says as a matter of fact. He doesn’t dignify Park’s continual indignant sputtering with further explanation. Byun comments with an appreciative ‘thank you’.

 

“Yeah,” Minseok hums knowingly, “he can, like, uhhh… basically taste the air and just know what you’re like, yanno?”

 

“The analogy is horrible. You make me sound like a lizard, and I am most definitely not a reptile,” Sehun quips. “Good to see that you’re just drunk and not drugged or anything else. Anyways, I have yet to receive an answer to _my_ questions.” He jabs his skillet threateningly in the air.

 

Park lets out a ‘hmph’ and obliges. “Alright then, fuckface. I am Deadpool and my associate over there is---”

 

“Baekhyun,” Byun answers amiably.

 

“Oh fuck, what? We’re using real names now?” Park gapes through his mask. “What’s next? Face reveal? Birthdays? Social security numbers?”

 

“Relax, what do you think they’re gonna do with our names?” Byun reaches out a hand and waits for Sehun to accept. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” Sehun replies.

 

“Well shit! I guess I’m Chanyeol,” Park blurts with hands thrown up, exasperated.

 

“Why do we all have Korean names?” Minseok wonders. “Y’all Korean?”

 

Nobody says anything for a good few seconds. They were apparently a group prone to triggering the chirping crickets sound effect.

 

“You know what? Let’s not talk about that. It’d be too weird to explain,” Park says ambiguously, then looks up and winks.

 

“What are you winking at?” Byun asks.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Park replies, then looks up and winks again.

 

Sehun flexes a webbed hand and says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe he was actually winking at someone.”

 

Park laughs a very obviously fake laugh. “Ha, good one. A psychic man. I see.” He clears his throat and shuts up. Those who know too much… are truly dangerous. “Anyways, what do we do now?” They were running out of things to discuss and, in general, things for story progression.

 

A loud snore breaks the following silence and everyone turns to see the red demon out cold, mouth open with drool threatening to dribble out.

 

“Oh dear,” Sehun mumbles solemnly. It was a sad sight. “Well, I suppose we’re all acquainted. If you both no longer have any business with us, please leave and never come back again.”

 

Byun shrugs, “Alright.” There really isn't any other reason to stay.

 

Sehun patiently waits for them to get their shit together and sees them off with the spider guy leaving through the window--- because it’s classic--- and the other one phoning for a taxi. He watches the taxi lights fade into the distance and sighs.

 

“They’re definitely coming back.”

**Author's Note:**

> (ominous_rain_sounds.mp3)


End file.
